The Grenada gazette., 1887-10-01
RIP VAN WINKLE.
The Old Story as Told in the
Talmud.

Who has never heard or read of Ri
Van Winklep With such charm ant
power has Irving told the story that !
does not seem q fairy tale, but as rea
as the Catskills themselves.
Yet Rip is very old parsonage In
deed. He belongs to a venerable ant
veritable fairy story--a wanderln!
legend that has come down to us from
ages ago He appears in the folklore
of various nations-Oriental and Eu
ropean, modern and ancient. Blu
nowhere is the story told with more
although it requires the skill
of an Irving to transcribe it-than ir
the collection Of rabbinical law an(
fancy, wit and wisdom. debates ant
comments known as the Talmud.
Ages ago--it was about fifteen hun
ared years there lived man whose
name was Rabbi Hon. He loved soil.
tude-the quiet fields, the silent hills;
the lonely mountain rivulet. He
liked to take long walks by himself,
and he would think and think and
think all the time He did not mingle
in the busy life of the world.
The cheerful forge, the merry reaper,
the crowded street, boys and girls at
play, music and games-he would
spurn all these; and far away from the
haunts of men would he wander, as if
this bright and blessed world had 10
charm or interest for him.
What is life, what is lifea" he asked
himself, as with slow and measured
step he crossed the meadows. far be-
yond the outskirts of his native town.
'lt is like tleeting shadow!' so he
thought; not like the shadow of tree,
nor yet like the shadow Of wall, but
like the shadow of a bird. which mounts
aloft and swiftly flies away.
He sighed as he went along; but his
sadness was changed to wonder as he
saw an old man planting carob-tree.
Love and happiness beamed from that
aged face, as, with trembling hands
and tottering limbs he busted himself
with the task.
"Unfortunate man. cried Honi, in
voice OF sco-n. what folly is thine!
Dost thou waste thy feeble powers
in planting tree whose fruit will
grow in seventy years' Dost thou
hope to live so long? Poor fool, poor
foolr
Master" said the old man, in gem
tie tones, thou art mistaken; | plant
the tree not for myself In my youth,
! gathered fruit from trees which nv
grandsires planted; and now |, too
would provide for the happiness of
my descendants,
Happiness, happinessr' so mur-
INJURED Honi to himself What is
happiness. when life is so fleeting!
Why provide that our children gather
ripe, luscious fruit to make their lives
happier' Will they not suffer and
die, and is not our labor yaiu?"
Unable to answer these questions,
and wearied by his walk, Honi sank
upon the grass and fell asleep. The
sun sank to rest, and still the rabbi
slept The stars shone in the clear
Eastern skies, and still he slept,
Dawn broke, and midday came, and
a hundred nights passed, and still he
slumbered. A wall Of stones sprang
up around him, which hid him from
passers-by. And SO the years ran on.
summer and winter, seed-time and
harvest with all their varied changes.
and the rabbi awoke not. Was this
circle OF stones his burial-place9
Seventy years had elapsed when sud-
denly the s'one-wall disappeared, and
Ihe rabbi awoke. He rose to his feet.
rubbed his eyes, glanced in every d.
rectlon, and exclaimed: II have had
q pretty long sleep. 1t was scarcely
night when sank to rest. and now il
is almost midday. Imust hurry home. ~
Somewhat confused, he set upon his
way, but, seeing . carob-tree, stood |
rooted to the spot Like birds return.
ing to their nest, his thoughts few
back to the scene-the old man. tho
Of the tree, his own words of
scorn seventy years before. SURPRISED.
amazed, he approached nearer, and
saw how stately the tree had grown.
with its rich vegetation. A bow was
eating its fruit. and not hurryine at
his meal. boy, boy!" exclaimed
Honi, in . voice of anxiety. "who
planted this carob-treep'' "Not l."
replied the lad. with a light laugh.
''Don't you know how long It takes
this tree to bear fruitp Wby. nv
father told me that it was planted by
my grandsire." And the boy continued
eating In the utmost satisfaction.
Then Honi knew that he had silent
seventy years, and sad ut heart he rc. |
sumcd his way homewsr,l. But the
once familiar path had disappeared.
The greensward which had yielded 70